


Ron Weasley and the Forgotten Boyfriend

by EntreNous



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Amnesia, Humor, M/M, Room of Requirement, Semi-Public Sex, Spells & Enchantments, Temporary Amnesia, Truth Spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-07
Updated: 2009-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-26 15:59:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron Weasley has forgotten something very important. Now if only he could remember exactly what it was. Fortunately, or not so fortunately, he has Draco Malfoy to help him put the pieces together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the the June Ron/Draco fest. Thanks to katekat1010 for her beta-reading of this fic though it's not a fandom we (currently!) share.

 

Ron shifted and groaned. He felt as though he had been hit by the Hogwarts Express. Every single muscle he had ached.

It was with no small effort that he opened his eyes, blinking as the bleary shapes around him gradually came into better focus. He was in a curtained-off area of the Infirmary; that much he could tell. And standing to the right of his bedside table weighed down with bottles and potions was his best mate.

"Harry?" Ron croaked.

"You're awake," Harry answered. He tried a smile, but his expression seemed troubled.

Ron immediately searched the room for Hermione. If there was something wrong, she would know all about it.

"You were unconscious for several hours," she said as soon as he caught her eye. Her lips were set in a grim line.

"Am I all right, though?" Ron asked after neither of them spoke again. He patted his chest a bit, trying to see if he had any sort of awful gaping wounds, then groaned again as his muscles protested. "Everything hurts. What happened?"

As soon as he asked the question, he tried to sit up, for he realized with panic that he hadn't the slightest idea of what _had_ happened. He couldn't recall anything about the events that landed him in the Infirmary, whether he had been at a meal or in the corridors or sitting by the fire in the Gryffindor common room. Maybe he'd been hit on the head by a Bludger during a Quidditch match? Perhaps there had been an accident in Charms? Or was it something that would surely bring a Howler to him from his mother come morning, like Snape catching him and Harry out late of bed late at night and hexing Ron on purpose to teach him a lesson about breaking rules?

"You don't remember," Hermione said cautiously.

"Well, they said he wouldn't," someone said, and Ron realized Ginny was hovering behind Hermione. Her expression was anxious, as though something absolutely awful had occurred. Ron felt his heart tattoo faster: Ginny never looked worried about him unless it was really serious, like when the twins charmed off his ears when he was seven or the gnomes carried off the pair of Wellies his mum had just bought him when he was ten.

"But we're supposed to let him be the one to --" Hermione snapped her mouth shut before she finished her sentence.

" _Do_ you remember anything?" Harry spoke over her in a hushed voice. Ron glanced around; Pomfrey must be about if Harry was worried about someone overhearing. Still, she wasn't hovering at his bedside, which must mean he wasn't going to die in the next five minutes.

"Something happened, then? I -- was I hurt? Hit?" Ron rubbed his head to feel for a bump.

"Oh, please, of _course_ he doesn't remember a thing about what caused this. What do you all think _happens_ to someone hit by a memory spell?" another voice full of derision commented.

Ron turned slightly to view this fourth person and blinked rapidly. He must be really badly hurt. Maybe Harry and Ginny and Hermione weren't really there at all, just comforting figments of Ron's imagination caused by the huge debilitating blow he had no doubt suffered to his head.

How else could he explain the fact that Draco Malfoy appeared among those gathered around his infirmary bed?

"You will be just fine," Malfoy said to him in a comforting voice. He stepped forward, and after a pause and a slight twitch of his lips, took Ron's hand.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked. He yanked his hand back and sat up all the way. "Ow," he finished weakly as his body protested and he fell back against the pillow.

"You're not to excite him -- did I not tell you over and over that Mr. Weasley must have his rest?" Madam Pomfrey bustled in, looking cross, and made shooing gestures at the group surrounding Ron.

"We didn't mean to upset him," Hermione protested.

"It was them doing it," Malfoy commented. "I told them you wanted him calm, and I was doing my best to get them all to leave him to his rest. But no, they _would_ lurk about, bothering him, asking if he remembered anything, and --"

"What is he doing here?" Ron asked Ginny. She was the only one looking directly at Malfoy; Harry, Hermione, even Madam Pomfrey had their eyes trained on the ceiling or the floor, as though if no one acknowledged Malfoy, he would just go away.

"Well. We couldn't very well ask him to leave," she began. She glanced at Hermione, and then glared at Malfoy.

"Why on earth not?"

"Because he says," Ginny began.

"He says he's your boyfriend," Harry blurted, then immediately went red.

"My -- my what?" Ron choked out.

"It's all right, Ron," Malfoy soothed again. "Don't exert yourself overmuch."

Hermione gave Malfoy an incredulous look.

"No, really, what's he doing here?" Ron asked desperately.

"I know I said we shouldn't tell anyone yet weeks ago when you asked," Malfoy said in a low, intimate tone. "But of course you don't remember that, do you, with what's happened." He gave Ron a look full of sympathy. "But when you do remember, you'll understand how necessary it was I inform your friends about what's going on between us, especially now this has happened."

"What exactly happened?" Ron shouted to the lot of them.

"You are suffering the effects of a memory hex," Madam Pomfrey pronounced.

"Memory hex?" Ron patted around his head once more.

"A quite specific memory hex, it would seem -- not just Obliviate, but more targeted, and, we think, more dangerous." Hermione spoke quickly, her eyes flickering to Malfoy for a moment. "You were knocked unconscious, or at least you were discovered that way. We don't know if that was because of the hex, fainting away when the spell was cast, or if someone did that first, knocking you out so they could hex you more easily."

"What can be said about the diagnosis is this," Madam Pomfrey began. "When you were brought here, I performed all the essential tests, as we had no way of asking you questions due to your unconscious state. A small discrepancy in a routine investigation of your mental capacities prompted me to check further, and indeed I found that some specific part of your memory must have suffered from what can no doubt be a malicious hex."

Ron made a small pleading sound. "But I know all of you -- and I know my name -- and I know I'm a wizard -- and I know Harry's my best mate -- what could I have forgotten that was so important? If I had really forgotten something crucial, wouldn't I be asking, 'Oh, who are you, you completely unfamiliar crowd of strangers?' or asking you to put that pointy stick away?"

"If it was a selective spell, someone wanted you to forget something in particular. Some event or development they didn't want you to recall, or maybe even something about you they disapproved of," Malfoy contributed. He smiled at Ron when Ron shot him a horrified look.

Hermione frowned at the two of them. "The fact of the matter is, Ron, you have definitely forgotten something due to this hex. At the moment, it seems we cannot say what. So even if we think Malfoy isn't telling the truth, it is ... possible that you have, as Malfoy has claimed over and over while we waited for you to awaken, well…blocked out some sort of relationship with him."

"How?" Ron threw his hands up in the air, and then winced at the impact the gesture made on his sore body. "How in Merlin's name could I have blocked out the completely unbelievable idea that I had done -- with a man? I would think I would remember such a thing!"

Malfoy made a sort of sympathetic humming noise, which was odd enough in itself. But odder still was the almost affectionate look on his face as he perched on the side of Ron's bed and hesitantly touched Ron's arm. "It was hard for you at the start," he explained in an undertone, as though he didn't want the others to hear. "I didn't believe you were actually interested in another boy at first; after all, Weasleys have a reputation…" He smirked. "But then you were so persistent, and tried over and over to convince me. Ultimately I couldn't resist you."

Ron gaped at him like a fish.

Behind Malfoy, Harry and Hermione exchanged looks, and Ginny raised her eyebrows.

Harry stepped forward and spoke with a forced calm. "Look, could you give us a minute? With Ron. Alone."

"I should be asking that of all of you," Malfoy shot back.

"Just a few moments," Harry insisted.

"I'll do more than that," Malfoy muttered. He turned to pick up his book bag, and slung it over his shoulder. "I'll be back to visit you as soon as I'm able, love." Malfoy blew Ron a kiss then sneered at the others before slipping out of the room.

"None of you believe him," Ron said as soon as he was sure the other boy had gone. He meant to say it as a statement of fact, but it came out as a plea.

Ginny looked at Harry. Harry darted his eyes toward Hermione. Hermione's brows knit together as she regarded Ron as she might a new specimen of Hinkypunk.

"You can't actually be thinking -- even if you suspected for a moment he could be telling the truth, you know I don't go in for that sort of thing," Ron insisted, gesturing emphatically at the escape route Malfoy had taken.

"What sort of thing?" Ginny asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Blokes!" Ron exploded. "You can't believe him for a second, can you, not when you all know I've liked only girls since...since always!"

"Sometimes the adolescent period is very confusing on many fronts, particularly in terms of issues of attraction and sexuality," Hermione offered. She still frowned, but she looked as though she was warming up to a topic she had some opinions on. "My parents supplied me with a number of interesting texts about this after our second year."

"Hang on," Ron said. "Bugger your interesting texts. _Lavender_."

"Yes, Lavender," Harry said with some relief.

"What about Lavender?" Hermione asked Harry sharply.

"If Ron, you know, liked to snog Lavender -- and we all saw them snogging quite a lot -- well. Then he couldn't possibly..." Harry trailed off as Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest. Sheepishly, he shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

"Well, it seemed as though he liked it. But he really was awfully dramatic about it for someone who just _liked_ it, wasn't he?" Ginny asked.

"How do you mean?" Harry asked.

Ginny huffed impatiently. "Lots of people snog here and there in the common room, and no one blinks or says a word. I mean, what do the rest of us care? But no, Ron and Lavender had to sit smack in the middle of the room for everyone to see, lips mashed together as though they were glued that way, sucking the breath out of one another," Ginny closed by making exaggerated noises like someone eating a very gummy Jelly Slug.

"It did seem a tad overdone," Hermione agreed after a pause.

"That makes no sense," Harry replied. "Why would Ron go around snogging Lavender if he didn't like it, just to -- oh," he finished, a look of surprise now on his face.

"Oh, what?" Ron asked frantically.

Harry gave an uncomfortable shrug. "I suppose if you didn't really like girls, but wanted to, or wanted other people to think you did…then you might, er, I dunno, have an awful lot of public scenes showing how much you liked them."

"To convince others, or perhaps to convince yourself." Hermione regarded Ron with a keen eye, as though attempting to discern which of these notions was the more plausible.

"That's bollocks," Ron said bluntly. "I like girls. I like -- well, I never _liked_ Lavender, exactly --"

"You're a pig, Ron," Ginny observed.

"But I liked kissing her well enough, and I like -- you know -- Hermione --" Ron said, and then felt his ears burn red.

"I always did think you and Hermione," Harry said, and then stopped. He gave Hermione a sidelong glance.

"It's all right," Hermione assured Harry, her brow had furrowed once more. "I suppose there were signs all this time. I just never gave much thought to them until now, but when you add them all together--"

"Signs of what?" Ron asked, voice cracking. "

Hermione gave him that superior look she sometimes got when having to explain something she thought ridiculously obvious. "Well, as I said earlier, adolescent sexuality--"

"Never mind, all right? I don't want to know about your theories and ideas about who I kiss and why or anything having to do with _sexuality_ ," Ron declared. He scowled at the lot of them.

"Still, that is not the most important thing," Harry said quietly.

"It isn't?"

"Malfoy," Hermione answered. "As well as whatever memories the hex affected."

Harry cleared his throat. "Whether or not you -- we need to figure out if he's telling the truth."

Hermione gave a brisk nod. "And if he isn't, then we should determine what exactly it is Ron has forgotten, and why someone would want to make him forget a specific incident or part of his life so completely."

"What if he isn't telling the truth about both things?" Harry asked. When Hermione looked thoughtful, Harry continued, "He might have cast the hex, and then come up with this story about dating Ron to cover any questions about his actions."

Hermione shook her head. "I suppose, but it seems odd to me, doing something a person would want to keep secret -- making someone else forget, after all -- and then following it with declarations and claims that would make others stop and examine his behavior."

Harry looked doubtful. "Well, if we think it was someone else, who do we suspect?"

"You know, I almost feel sorry for him," Ginny said quickly. "Malfoy, I mean."

"For _Malfoy_?" Harry asked, turning to her.

"I don't know why, not when he's a right liar," Ron insisted.

Ginny shrugged. "If there was something between you two -- I don't know, Ron. He did seem awfully upset when he came to the Infirmary. I don't think that's the sort of thing one can pretend about. Then when you woke up, he spoke to you as if he actually cared what happened, like you matter to him."

"Listen to me. There is no chance that anything ever happened between me and Draco Malfoy!"

"Ron, the reason why we're even entertaining the idea at all is that we think there could be a slight chance. Not necessarily that you were obviously involved with Malfoy to the eyes of anyone who looked, but there were a few incidents we didn't understand. And those could perhaps be explained if you were with Malfoy. There were times that you...went missing," Hermione said with some care.

"What?" Ron tried to think of what she might be talking about. "That's ridiculous. When?"

"All the time, lately," Harry said, looking uncomfortable. "You're never about when we're revising at night these past few weeks. And the last Hogsmeade weekend you said you didn't want to go, but wouldn't tell us why."

"There is obviously some kind of explanation why --" Ron cut himself off abruptly as he thought. Had he been missing from the common room of late, and not going to Hogsmeade? None of that was at all like him; he rarely slipped off to be by himself or passed up an opportunity to spend time with his mates. The worst part, though, he found as he searched his mind, was that he could not actually remember any instances in which he had on purpose kept away from his house-mates. Was that what he had forgotten, the reason why he had avoided his friends?

"Was I really gone all those times?" he asked quietly.

Ginny looked distressed. "You really don't remember that either? I've noticed as well, but I thought for certain even if you didn't recall the other, that…" She left off, biting her lip. Hermione gave her a strange look, and then shrugged almost imperceptibly.

Ron sighed. "Well, how long was I gone for? Those times you noticed I wasn't about?"

Harry shifted from one foot to another. "Sometimes an hour or two. Other times it lasted longer, I think; I wasn't always able to keep track. Once I know you were gone nearly all night; I heard you go to bed some time after half three."

"Even if I haven't been about lately, what's any of that got to do with Malfoy?"

"You know I've been trying to find out what Malfoy has up to all those times he went missing. The rest of you acted like I was mental for worrying about his plans, but now that someone's tampered with your memory, it seems even more important to figure out what sorts of schemes he's trying. Seems to stand to reason it's possible -- I'm just saying it's _possible_ \-- that you and he might have, well, gone missing together a few of those times."

"It would explain why -- if you two were keeping something secret -- he didn't want to be found," Hermione noted.

"And you didn't ask me about this?" Ron's voice rose. "Some friends you lot are; your mate keeps going off on his own, no explanation, and you didn't try to learn what was happening?"

"We did try," Hermione insisted. "Harry and I were very worried."

"Did you look for me on --" Ron mimed a folding gesture, asking without naming it directly whether Harry had searched for him using the Marauders' Map.

"I thought it was up to you to tell us," Harry said, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "So no, I didn't try to track you that way."

"We wanted to sort it out by speaking to you," Hermione continued. "But you wouldn't have any of it, just kept saying we'd find out soon enough. After a time we asked the others, like Neville and Seamus and Dean, trying to find out if anyone else had seen you during those times. I even asked Lavender --" Her lips pressed together again.

Ron fell back weakly against the pillows. If Hermione had asked Lavender, he reckoned his periodic disappearances were actually serious. He hadn't remembered Hermione and Lavender speaking much at all, not since he and Lavender --

And just like that, it struck Ron that he had been an utter berk to Hermione since all that business with Lavender had started. He leaned forward awkwardly on the bed, trying to decide if he should bring up that uncomfortable fact at this particular point. When a sharp pain shot across his shoulders, though, he let out a whimper instead.

"We really should leave you alone now," Hermione said, stepping closer to pat his hand.

"Before Pomfrey kicks us out and bans us from the Infirmary entirely," Harry added. "Listen, we'll be back after Potions, and tell you if we've learned anything. No one else knows-- well, no one else but all of us --"

"And Draco, obviously," Ginny said at once.

"And Draco knows," Harry agreed after a pause. "How does he know?" he asked Hermione immediately after.

"That is quite enough," Pomfrey pronounced as she once again approached the group of them. "I've allowed you far more time than you should have remained."

"Well." Hermione gave a too-bright smile. "We do have to get to Potions. It's a double class today, and even Professor Slughorn sometimes takes points if we're late."

"Yeah, all right," Ron muttered. He was feeling tired and confused anyway; maybe some time without being surrounded on all sides would do him some good.

*~*~*

Two days later found Ron summarily discharged from the Infirmary.

"The pain potions and muscle menders I've given you have done their work, and the tests I can perform here can tell me nothing more about your condition," Madam Pomfrey told him as she hustled him toward the door. "Of course if you begin to get sudden headaches, or find yourself forgetting anything more, come see me immediately."

Ron scratched his head. "How will I know if I've forgotten anything else if I've already forgotten it? I can't remember what I forgot before, can I?"

She gave him an impatient look. "See me for another appointment in a week," she declared by way of resolution.

There was nothing left to do but go down to breakfast. And he did feel much better, he thought to himself as he helped himself to another pile of eggs and a few more sausages. It seemed daft to worry about what he might have forgotten if it wasn't anything obviously important. If there was anything truly crucial to recall, someone else would have remembered by now, wouldn't they?

Perhaps there had been a hex. Maybe he had forgotten something awful, and in that case, he was likely better off not remembering. Or maybe Pomfrey was wrong, and Harry and Hermione were worried for no reason at all. He could have just knocked his head when he had taken a spill. Those stones in the corridors could get slippery when students tramped into the halls with muddy feet. No doubt he had just tumbled down all at once, and hadn't actually forgotten anything. They had to give you some sort of diagnosis when you went into the Infirmary, he reasoned to himself as he grunted at Neville to pass the potatoes. Could be that Pomfrey felt she had to say something smart about him besides his obvious state of unconsciousness.

Really, he thought as he poured another glass of pumpkin juice, his friends were used to worrying all the time about loads of things. Stood to reason they might worry too much about something that wasn't at all important. He likely had not been missing from their company much at all, and they had worked themselves into a lather over nothing.

Then he looked up from his fifth slice of toast to see Crabbe and Goyle standing behind him.

"What do you want?" Harry asked. He placed his palms on the table, as though getting ready to rise out of his seat if necessary.

"This," Goyle said, thrusting a folded piece of parchment toward Ron.

"What's he given you?" Seamus asked as the two Slytherin boys lurched away.

"Nothing," Ron said quickly.

"Seamus, did you finish the Charms essay due today?" Hermione asked in an imperious voice.

Seamus flushed. "I have most of it. I meant to copy the rest out during Transfiguration."

"And get points taken from Gryffindor when McGonagall finds you doing work for another professor in her class? I think not!"

Ron silently reminded himself to thank Hermione later for the welcome distraction, and carefully opened the parchment.

> _Ron,_
> 
> _I went to see you twice, but Pomfrey said she wouldn't allow visitors, not even me! Patently untrue, by the way; I spotted Granger and Potter going in twice to leave you your school work._
> 
> _I know you don't remember any of what happened between us, but I really am worried about you, love. You have to give me a chance to explain everything soon. If nothing else, for now please just give me some sort of sign that you're all right._
> 
> _Yours,  
>  Draco_

Ron looked up to find Malfoy gazing intently at him from the Slytherin table. He felt his cheeks burn, and he immediately turned his gaze to the door. "I have to get out of here," he said under his breath.

"I'll come along," Harry said quickly, and the two of them made their way out of the Great Hall.

*~*~*

The rest of the morning and afternoon passed like a typical school day. Well, typical if it were common for Ron to find Malfoy lurking around every corner, trying to get his attention in Potions by passing him notes, and actually coming to the Gryffindor table during luncheon and asking if he could speak to Ron privately.

"I can't take much more of this," Ron said to Hermione as they made their way to Transfiguration after the meal.

"Perhaps you should just speak with him and let him know you're all right. Then he would have no real reason to demand you talk to him at every turn."

"Except for his mental idea that he and I were --" Ron made a vague gesture in the air with his hand. "I don't know what his game is, what he could possibly gain by claiming it, but I do know Malfoy. He's going to press that for all its worth if he thinks it will get him what he wants."

Hermione huffed with impatience. "If he is lying, maybe talking to him will catch him out. Avoiding him is certainly not helping to deter him."

" _If_ he's lying," Ron repeated indignantly.

"Ron," Malfoy said as he fell easily into step beside him. "Could I have a word?"

"Oh, I've gone and forgotten my notes," exclaimed Hermione, who had obviously done no such thing if the immense folders she hefted in her arms were any evidence. "I'll see you in a moment, Ron." She darted back the way they had come.

"Talk to me, Ron, won't you?" Malfoy asked.

"Never thought I'd see the day when you called me that," Ron muttered as he started off at a fast pace, trying not to make eye contact with the other boy.

Malfoy just followed his path. "What, your given name? I can't very well just call you Weasley anymore, can I? There are far too many of you to use your surname only when we're alone, and besides, one of you is a girl." Malfoy paused. "I have heard _very_ good things about your brother Charlie, however--"

"Sod off," Ron growled as he tried to veer right and lose Malfoy through a crowd of chattering Hufflepuffs. Unfortunately with a few nimble steps Malfoy kept up with him perfectly.

"I suppose this is just what I deserve." Malfoy sighed as he caught up. "You wanted us to tell everyone. Why, you clearly thought to sing my praises to the rooftops, telling your friends and family about what was between us as soon as you were sure I felt the same way. But I, fool that I was, said, no, no, we should keep this to ourselves just a little while longer."

Ron attempted to hurry ahead, and Malfoy panted just a little as he kept up. "Had we only told our friends sooner, there would be none of these silly questions about whether we were actually together. Potter and Granger could have assured you in that case that you were hopelessly, madly --"

"Why would I have gone anywhere near you if I could help it?" Ron hissed as he pulled Malfoy aside and shoved him up against the wall. If he couldn't stop the other boy from speaking to him, at least he could prevent others from overhearing their exchange.

"I do not like you!" he went on in a heated whisper. "I have never liked you! For that matter, you've never liked me! We would as soon as come to blows as ever offer each other a kind word. In fact, you've probably started more fights with me than anyone else at Hogwarts."

"See, when you put it that way, is it any wonder we started something more eventually?" Malfoy crooned. He grasped Ron's arm, but not as though to stop him. No, it was a sort of suggestive squeeze. His grey eyes sparkled with wickedness as he ran his fingers over Ron's muscles and attempted to tug him forward.

"Can't you leave me be?" Ron asked desperately. He grabbed Malfoy by both shoulders, wondering if he should give him a shake to make him see reason.

"No," Malfoy answered, suddenly serious. Abruptly, he let his hand fall. "This thing between us, it won't go away just because you cannot remember any of it. I know I'll find a solution to give you back your memory, and then we'll go on as we were before."

"Fine, fine, find a solution. We'll soon see that whatever it was I forgot has nothing at all to do with you!"

"You'll regret having said that when you do remember." Malfoy's voice was quiet.

Ron shook his head and made off for the classroom. Malfoy kept up as before.

"Can I see you later?" Malfoy asked in an undertone as they got to the door of the Transfiguration classroom.

"Will it matter any if I refuse?" Ron asked in irritation.

"Not a bit," Malfoy replied, suddenly cheerful. He waggled his fingers before departing, calling, "See you after dinner, then!"

Ron stalked to his desk, still grumbling. It meant nothing that he had agreed to see Malfoy. He had practically forced Ron to agree, what with his following Ron about and going on and on about nonsense. In fact, Ron thought as he dumped his books on his desk, he looked forward to the opportunity to straighten the ridiculous business out once and for all.

"Hey, Ron," Seamus whispered, tugging Ron back by his robe.

"Gerroff," Ron muttered, shrugging him away. It was bad enough he had Draco Malfoy tagging along at every step and sending him notes and caressing his arm; he didn't need his housemates trying to pull him this way and that on top of everything.

"You looked cozy with Malfoy in the corridor," Seamus observed.

"Shut it."

"Is it true, then, about you and Malfoy?" As Ron turned his head to protest, Seamus made a suggestive thrusting gesture with his fist and grinned.

"You weren't supposed to tell anyone," Ron complained to Harry, who had just taken his place next to him.

"Tell anyone what?" Neville inquired, leaning over from his desk.

"What? I didn't," Harry protested.

"He didn't," Seamus agreed with a grin. "I heard rumors Malfoy is telling anyone who will listen about how he'd gotten into the pants of one of the Gryffindor boys, and since the two of you have always been at each other's throats, I figured --"

Ron vaulted over the desk separating them and lunged for Seamus. Within seconds there was a cloud of dust surrounding them on the floor as the fight escalated. With a growl, Ron tried to pull Seamus's lower lip over his forehead and Seamus yowled like a banshee.

"Mr. Weasley!"

Then Ron was being picked up by his ear and tossed into his seat as if he weighed no more than a Cauldron Cake.

"I will not have such a violent display in my classroom!" McGonagall thundered.

"How about by the lake after dinner?" Ron spat at Seamus.

"That is enough! There will be no such meeting between you two. Mr. Weasley, you are to report to Filch directly after dinner to help him in whatever tasks he chooses to assign you." She turned and pointed to Seamus. "And you, young man, will arrive at my office after your meal, to help me clean my closets and to do lines."

Ron turned back to his desk and scowled at the top of it.

Behind him Seamus made a whimpering sound.

There was one good thing to come of Seamus's stupid remarks; at least Ron wouldn't have to deal with Malfoy after the meal.

*~*~*

After three hours of scrubbing and polishing his hands raw, Ron finally got his dismissal from Filch.

He made straight for the common room, muttering, "Jobberknoll Feathers," and clambering through when the Fat Lady swung open to let him in.

Harry and Hermione were nowhere to be seen, but Ron supposed they were off at the library working on Hermione's demanding revising schedule. He eyed a vacant squashy chair, intending to slump into it, when Ginny caught his gaze across the room and waved him over.

"Hullo," he started as he took the chair to her right. He couldn't help yawning through the greeting.

"You must be exhausted," Ginny said sympathetically. "Here -- it's a sort of lotion I made in Potions. It's supposed to be good for chapped skin. Of course we were supposed to make something entirely different so I lost points. But this seemed more useful to me anyway."

"Thanks," Ron said in surprise as he took a bit of the concoction. As soon as he smeared some on his skin, his hands felt much better.

"Want a Butterbeer?" Dean asked as he appeared by Ron's side. "I kept a few from the last trip to Hogsmeade, and I've had them under a cooling spell until now."

"Yeah, all right," Ron reached out for the bottle.

Dean slipped onto the couch next to Ginny. They both seemed to be regarding him expectantly.

Ron took a large gulp of his drink before asking, "What's gotten into you, both of you acting like this?"

"Oh, I like that," Ginny said hotly. "Your own sister can't do something for you without you getting suspicious?"

"Well, you can, but you have to admit it is a little odd," Ron argued.

"And Dean is your friend!" Ginny continued. "Can't he offer you a Butterbeer every so often?"

"Yeah. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, mate," Dean advised. He swallowed some of his own Butterbeer, looking glum.

"How are things going with Malfoy?" Ginny asked in a lower voice. "Is he still harassing you? I saw him after you in the halls a few times today."

"If you need any help putting him off, say the word," Dean put in.

Ron glanced at Dean in surprise, and Ginny quickly said, "Dean knows about -- well --"

"I thought no one else was to know," Ron exclaimed. "Just you, Harry, Hermione, and Dr-- Malfoy!"

"Hush! He asked some questions," Ginny replied.

"Well, you didn't have to answer them!"

"I only know the bit about Malfoy claiming -- and your --" Dean tapped his own head, then abruptly dropped his hand.

"Oh, if that's all," Ron muttered. He scowled at his nearly-healed hands. Just because Ginny was going out with Dean didn't mean she had to tell him every little thing concerning Ron. At least the two of them weren't lip-locked; Ron didn't like to see that even in his best moods, and the day's events had left him peevish already.

"Sorry about Seamus," Dean interjected.

"What? Oh, yeah." Ron looked up. "Did he get back from McGonagall yet?"

"Clothes covered in chalk and hands all ink-stained. He went straight to bed, completely knackered."

Ron relaxed a little. "Serves him right."

"Well, I should be getting upstairs as well." Ginny stood, smoothing her skirt. "Oh, and I fetched this from the kitchens for you. I thought you might be hungry after all that work." She set down a wrapped bun, and made for the girls' dormitories.

"I'm for bed as well," Dean said. He hastened toward the stairs.

Just then Harry entered, making a beeline for the free chair next to Ron. "How did it go with Filch?" he inquired as he stretched out his legs.

"Usual," Ron said through the roll.

"You didn't happen to see Malfoy, did you?"

"He tried to come after me when dinner finished, but I had to report for detention. Why?"

Harry leaned forward. "Just couldn't find him on the map tonight, is all."

"So you just assumed he was with me?"

Harry hesitated.

"I can't believe this! You don't trust me at all when I say there's no way he can be telling the truth, do you? You think I'm really -- that he --"

Harry looked uncomfortable. "No, I--"

"Look, Harry, I know you're obsessed about where Malfoy is at all times." As he jumped to his feet, his voice got louder. "But in spite of him trying to get me alone all day, he wasn't with me tonight, all right? If you want Draco Malfoy, you'll have to hunt him down yourself, because I won't be the one to lead you to him!" Ron shouted.

He stopped and looked about him. The common room had gone dead silent. Neville, Dennis Creevey, Katie Bell, and others who had been chatting or revising had swiveled in their direction, looking at Ron with wide eyes.

Ron cursed, and turned on his heel to clomp upstairs. The night couldn't possibly get any worse, at least not as long as he went to bed immediately.

 

*~*~*

At breakfast two different second-years asked Ron if it was true he was going out with Draco Malfoy.

"I notice you're not attacking them for asking the same thing as me," Seamus sniffed when Ron sent them packing with a growl.

"They're too small to fight properly," Ron said crossly. "Besides, _they_ didn't make lewd hand gestures."

Instead of looking properly shamed, Seamus snickered.

"I've been doing some research at the library," Hermione muttered to Ron as she dumped a stack of heavy volumes on the table. "I know Madam Pomfrey couldn't identify the memory spell used on you, but it's got to be listed somewhere."

"Yeah?" Ron glanced over her shoulder, but he couldn't make out much from her cramped jottings. "Do you think that will help prove Malfoy wrong?"

"He's the least of our problems," Hermione said darkly. "I thought about it all afternoon after he came up to you in the corridor yesterday. Whether he was your secret boyfriend or not, the fact is that there is something you can't remember. And if someone has been tampering with your memory, we need to understand what they did. It sounds a very dark sort of spell to me. We can't have them casting it on others, and we need to pinpoint what it was someone so badly wanted you to forget."

"Well, that's something," Ron allowed. "Just try to prove Malfoy is spouting nonsense while you're at it, yeah?"

Harry slid into the space across the table from Ron and Hermione, giving them a stiff nod. Ron hunched over his plate of eggs and ignored him.

"What now?" Hermione asked in exasperation.

"Thanks to him, I've gotten all sorts of grief about this thing with Malfoy," Ron explained. "And he doesn't believe a thing I say, obviously."

"If Ron hadn't shouted for everyone in the common room to hear, no one else would suspect a thing," Harry answered.

The two of them glared at each other. "I've got to go," Ron finally muttered, and stood.

Before he could gather his things completely and get away, however, he heard Neville timidly ask Harry, "Is it true what the fourth-year girls are saying, that you're keen on Malfoy, and jealous Ron got him first?"

*~*~*

The rest of the day was a disaster.

Hermione couldn't find a thing in the library books to indicate the specific hex Ron had suffered. When Ron tried to tell her once again she should remember to find a way to discount Malfoy's claims, she became put out and refused to talk to him about the matter.

Harry seemed horrified at having to fend off rumors that he was trying to come between Ron and Malfoy's new romance. He skirted around Ron whenever they crossed paths, and ignored the eager questions of their housemates.

And Ron took to pivoting on his foot to get away from the constantly hovering Slytherins who wanted to leer and ask him if it was true he was interested in promoting inter-house "relations".

"I'm skiving off History of Magic," Ron muttered to Hermione as they paused outside Professor Binns's classroom.

"But we're covering the Goblin Riots of 1547," she said, shocked.

"In that case, I'm definitely giving it a miss." He shouldered his bag and trudged off, fighting against the sea of students hurrying to classrooms.

A moment later, he was suddenly and blissfully alone in the corridor.

He had just set off towards the stair, imagining he might sneak outside and pass some time by himself by the lake, when someone yanked him into a tapestry-covered alcove.

"Hey!" he exclaimed when he saw that Draco Malfoy was the one who had pulled him into the recess. "Get your hands off me!"

"Did you deliberately go and get yourself detention yesterday so as to avoid me?" Malfoy demanded. "Because I do not appreciate being ignored when I explained perfectly clearly that I need to speak to you!"

"No! Seamus was -- never mind that! The point is, we don't have anything to speak about! What you need is to stop this nonsense and just give up on whatever you're after."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "Think I'm after something, do you?"

"You must be, or you wouldn't have invented this ridiculous lie." Ron grimaced as Malfoy reached out to him.

Malfoy let his hand fall, frowning. He really was a fine actor, Ron had to admit. He actually looked as though his feelings had been hurt.

"Doesn't it make sense to you that if we had been together, lots of people wouldn't like it one bit, maybe enough to make you want to forget all about it?" Malfoy began in a low voice. "Your parents, for instance; mine, for certain. That's not the least of it: we both know there are bigger issues facing us than parents who wouldn't approve. There are a number of people who wouldn't look kindly on me cozying up to a Gryffindor especially after what happened at the end of last year. And I don't think you passing time with someone in Slytherin would make you popular with Dumbledore's crowd."

"That doesn't make this the only possible thing I could have forgotten," Ron returned, gesturing between Malfoy and himself. "All right, so in some world where everyone is mental and I fancied blokes, _maybe_ the idea that we would come within two feet of one another without there being fists involved would make an ounce of sense. Even then, it could be _anything_ , the thing someone wanted me to forget! How do you know it wasn't information someone didn't want me to have? You said yourself there are larger issues at stake. Maybe someone was trying to get to Harry, keep something from him. I'd obviously tell him straight away if I found out something important."

"Ah, but Potter doesn't tell you everything." Malfoy's mouth twisted into a mocking smile. "Anyone who pays the slightest bit of attention knows how much he goes off on his own half-cocked much of the time. I can't imagine he constantly stops whatever he's about because he needs to bring _you_ in on his plans. And really, Ron, how often is it you figure out something before Potter, or Granger? No, I think someone worried about important information would have targeted one of them, not you."

Ron scowled. His fingers curled into fists by reflex. If Malfoy said one more word about how very unimportant Ron was, how little he was likely to know…

But then Malfoy changed tacks abruptly. "I've seen Granger in the library with an even higher pile of books than usual. Your friends learn anything about that hex yet?"

Ron snorted. "Nothing. Hermione's making herself mental looking for it, and for some way of making me remember whatever it is I forgot."

A strange expression flitted over Malfoy's features. Ron swallowed, suddenly uneasy that he had given away a bit of information so quickly.

"Maybe she's been looking the wrong way," Malfoy said softly. His cheeks flushed, and his eyes glittered.

Ron felt his heartbeat speed up. "How should she be looking?"

Just then they both heard footsteps approaching rapidly.

He and Malfoy both froze. Ron didn't want anyone to discover him having this chance meeting with Draco; the rumors around Hogwarts about them seemed to have reached a fevered pitch, and he didn't want to fan their flames.

Then the footsteps stopped. Malfoy's hand flew out and clutched Ron's sleeve before inching up and grasping Ron's arm. What Malfoy could have to worry about, Ron had no idea; someone else finding them in close quarters would only boost Malfoy's plan to humiliate Ron. In any case, they both watched each other with wide eyes as the sound came closer, until it was right outside their hiding place.

Finally there was the fading echo of steps now past them and moving away.

Ron exhaled, but he couldn't stop himself from breathing hard, as though he had just flown drills around the pitch. Malfoy's panting breaths matched his own, though once again why Malfoy would worry about them being found Ron had no idea.

All at once Ron realized Malfoy's hand was still on his arm.

"All right, Malfoy, I've had about enough." Ron shrugged off Draco's hand. "You tell me what this is all about, and you tell me right now."

Malfoy took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. For a moment he paused, looked to the right, and then to the left. Ron swallowed, wondering if he was about to hear some sort of confession, or at the very least use whatever ruse Malfoy tried next to discover clues about what was happening.

Instead of speaking, however, to Ron's complete shock Draco Malfoy sank to his knees and parted Ron's robes with his hands.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ron asked, his voice breaking on the last word.

"I should think that would be obvious even to someone suffering from a memory hex." Malfoy looked up at him, a smirk on his lips as he undid Ron's flies.

"But _why_ are you doing it?" Ron tried unsuccessfully to bat away Malfoy's nimble fingers.

"Shhh. Your friends haven't found anything useful. You said so yourself. But you forget, Ron," Malfoy paused to snicker, and then resumed, "You forget that I have a vested interest in making you remember. Well, there are other ways to remember something than counter-spells or potions. There are other ways to solve problems besides magic. Ever heard of sense memory?" Malfoy licked his lips.

The realization of the absurdity of listening to this speech while Malfoy was trying to tug down Ron's trousers hovered around the edges of Ron's consciousness. But the truth was his mind had done something of a runner. Much as some part of him was shouting to stop this, he couldn't come up with the righteous indignation to shove Malfoy away or even the aggravated words to insist that he went for girls, not boys. All Ron could focus on was Draco's tongue darting around the edges of his mouth, and all he could manage to choke out was, "What's -- sense memory?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I think you'll catch on," he murmured as he leaned forward.

"I -- you can't -- what are -- oh _fuck_ ," Ron gasped as Malfoy stroked his cock and then licked up one side and down the other.

"Mmm, yes, this I've missed," Malfoy said under his breath. He actually buried his nose in Ron's curlies and breathed in deeply as though the scent was actually enticing. "You'll remember this, Ron, or I don't know what I'm about."

"You -- Malfoy, listen -- fine, I believe you, all right? We can talk all about it, but we should go somewhere else, somewhere public where you can't just -- just -- stop…" Ron tried weakly.

But his body was already responding. His prick hardened more as Draco slowly slid his mouth down the length of it, lips tight. "Oh fuck," Ron whispered again. His hands fluttered forward without his say-so, and before he could think further they had cupped the back of Draco's head, his fingers weaving into Draco's fine blond hair.

Draco's mouth on him, surrounding him, was so hot and soft that Ron's knees nearly gave out. And Draco's _tongue_ \-- it knew how to do things Ron had never even imagined when he'd taken himself in hand and fantasized about girls.

"Mmm," Malfoy moaned, white-blond eyelashes fluttering. He pulled his lips off with a pop, and smirked when Ron dumbly tugged him forward again.

"That's it, love," Malfoy whispered, using his hand to stroke the base of Ron's cock. "Let me," he crooned before taking Ron back in that sinful yielding mouth once more.

Ron shivered as his hips jerked forward. He had a dim recollection that he shouldn't thrust too hard with someone volunteering to do something like this to him, but Draco didn't seem to mind at all. He appeared to like it, in fact, sucking harder and bobbing his head up and down a little faster as if to urge Ron on.

Ron heard a weak gurgling sound come from his mouth as the back of his head hit the wall. Lavender had never, ever, ever done anything like this to him. They'd snogged lots, and she'd touched him through his pants one time while he groped around at her knickers, but nothing, nothing like this. 'Course at the time, anything she had been willing to try felt brilliant. Before he got together with her, Ron had started to wonder whether anyone would ever want to get close enough to him to do this sort of thing.

But now here was Draco, not only willing, not only initiating everything, but seeming to actually like having another bloke's cock in his _mouth_. Draco moaned as he worked his mouth forward and back, creating a tingling vibration that had Ron desperate for more.

Not just moaning, no; Draco was breathing harder, his hands stroking Ron's hips, reaching to grip Ron's arse and then squeezing it like he was beside himself at what he found.

"Oh fuck, Malf -- Draco -- that's --"

"Like it, don't you?" Malfoy asked as he pulled off. His lips were completely swollen and his hair was an utter wreck, but Ron thought he had never seen anyone look more shaggable. Obviously Malfoy had an inkling of this, for he gave a knowing grin before he fisted Ron's cock a few times, pausing to rub his smooth cheek against the head before he once again moved his hand up, over, and down. "Of course you like it, like everything I do for you, don't you?"

"Come on," Ron breathed.

He ought to be telling Malfoy to stop, Ron remembered dimly, not urging him on. He ought to be pushing him away and ordering him never to come near him again.

But somehow it was hard to do any such thing when Draco was sitting on his heels in front of him, licking his lips then brushing Ron's cock over his mouth and huffing in excitement.

"Maybe you remember this bit?" Draco asked coyly before he moved his mouth down again, tight tight tight, and brought one hand around to fondle Ron's balls.

"I -- don't stop," Ron got out hoarsely as Draco turned his head just a little, letting Ron see his cock bulge out Draco's cheek. "Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck me, that's so good," he whispered as Draco sped up.

Then the hand Draco had on his balls disappeared. Ron would have protested if he had been able to form any sort of words at that point, but when he realized where Draco 's hand was disappearing, to pull himself out with a frantic motion and stroke himself off --

Draco's eyes met his, the blue-grey of them dazed, shadowed by his trembling eyelashes. Further down Ron glimpsed flushed pink hardness as Draco fisted his prick in time with Ron's thrusts.

Then Ron was coming, groaning as his head thunked back hard against the wall and he jerked his hips forward again, faster, harder.

As Ron panted and tried not to fall apart completely, Draco let out a little gasp and came.

Ron still had his fingers in Draco's hair, and he watched the other boy's face go slack with pleasure, a drop of Ron's come at the edge of his mouth. His palms cradled the back of Draco's head as Draco slumped, taking deep shuddering breaths.

"Christ," Ron panted.

Never mind what the hell Draco was lying about and what Ron might have forgotten. Never mind about boys or girls or whatever Ron had cared about in the completely different life he had led up until this moment.

Ron hauled Draco up to his feet and kissed him hard.

Draco froze for a moment, but then he threw his arms around Ron's neck and kissed back with equal fervor. His mouth tasted a little astringent and musky, but Ron thrust his tongue in anyway, and Draco moaned before he started sucking on it.

They were just starting to grind against each other when the tapestry obscuring the alcove was jerked back.

"Mr. Weasley! Mr. Malfoy! What is the meaning of this?" McGonagall barked, obviously shocked to discover them.

Ron opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"Professor," Draco said in acknowledgement. "Weasley was just about to attend class when I asked him if he wouldn't mind helping me with a practical lesson instead. I find hands-on demonstrations far better for learning than theory alone."

"This is most inappropriate behavior," McGonagall scolded, looking utterly scandalized.

While she blustered, Draco, looking as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, reached down calmly and got Ron properly tucked back into his trousers before fastening up his own garments.

"You are both to report to my offices for detention tonight. And twenty-five points each from Gryffindor and Slytherin!"

She let the fabric drop, leaving them once again in the hidden area. They could hear her bustling away.

"I --" Ron stopped, suddenly shy. He could feel his cheeks flush.

Draco's smile was full of forbidden things. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against Ron's. "Tonight, then?" he asked in a low voice.

"Yeah."

Draco smoothed his hair and gave Ron a positively wicked look before dashing out of the alcove.

Ron slumped against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting sprawled on the floor.

He didn't remember anything he had forgotten, least of all anything like what had just happened. But he had quite enough to think about even so.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron Weasley has forgotten something very important. Now if only he could remember exactly what it was. Fortunately, or not so fortunately, he has Draco Malfoy to help him put the pieces together.

Ron made his way back to the common room in a state of bewilderment. He brushed past a group of boys arguing over Quidditch maneuvers and stumbled up the stairs to shower.

Afterward he pulled on his pyjamas and stretched out on his bed, staring up at the canopy and wondering what he was supposed to do now.

He wasn't certain how much time had passed when he heard the door to the room ease open.

"All right?" Harry asked, coming to stand at the end of Ron's bed.

"Not sure."

"Are you ill? I could call McGonagall or Madam Pomfrey --"

"No, it's nothing like that."

Harry came to perch on the side of the bed. A minute or so passed by while Ron examined the bed curtains and Harry looked at everything but Ron.

"Listen, I'm sorry," Harry said quickly.

"What for?" Ron asked in confusion. He raised himself up halfway on his elbows.

"Last night," Harry answered. He frowned. "You can't have forgotten. What's gotten into you, anyway?"

Ron opened his mouth again to say something about their heated words from yesterday. It took him a moment to put himself back in the frame of mind -- oddly enough, he found he had pushed the exchange from his mind after what happened with Draco. But obviously matters were still weighing on Harry. 

At any rate, there was no point in staying angry on principle, not when their argument of last night seemed ages ago, and definitely not when Ron really needed to speak to someone.

"What if -- do you think there is anything to it?" he asked in a near whisper.

Harry's eyes went wide. "To what?"

"This claim Draco's making."

"Draco now, is it?" Harry's expression showed his surprise.

"Suppose it is, at least after…" Ron groaned and slumped back, grabbing a pillow to cover his face.

For a long while, Harry said nothing.

"Dunno," he finally said. "You were gone quite a lot of late, and --" He paused. "You know all those times I was trying to find Malfoy on the map and couldn't. Well. Sometimes I couldn't find you either."

Ron threw the pillow to the side and hoisted himself up into a seated position. "What? You said in the Infirmary that you didn't look for me on the map! I asked specifically!"

"I know what I said."

"Hermione is going to kill you for not telling," Ron blurted. 

Harry barked out an uncomfortable laugh. "Yeah. Thing is, though, I didn't want to say anything more about it in front of her and Ginny."

"Why not?"

Harry shrugged, shifting so he was seated more fully on the bed and crossing his legs. "Just seemed -- they were already worried anyway, mate, and if it were true -- I wasn't sure," he finished.

Ron pulled his legs up, hugging his knees to his chest. "It doesn't prove anything for certain, does it? Two people not found at the same time -- you can't assume they would necessarily..."

"Yeah."

"Do you reckon…" Ron's mouth had gone dry, and he cleared his throat. "Do you reckon I was -- not just what Draco claims, about being his, erm...do you think I was doing anything…wrong?"

"No." Harry's answer was quick and firm. 

"But I could have -- if I really don't remember whatever it was -- maybe I was, I don't know, working with him somehow or maybe --"

"Ron--"

"Sometimes I do stupid things when I'm angry," Ron rushed to say. "But I don't think I would just switch sides like that." He let his head fall onto his knees. "The thing is, though, I don't _know_ what it is I've forgotten, and not being able to find me on the map makes it look worse. Wouldn't I show up, no matter where I was at Hogwarts, even if I'd had Polyjuice or wore an Invisibility Cloak?"

"Not if you were in the Room of Requirement," Harry answered after a beat. "Or I suppose if you had figured out some other way of hiding yourself…" He left his sentence unfinished. 

If Ron hadn't felt ill beforehand, he definitely did now. 

"I know you wouldn't," Harry said.

"Wouldn't what?" Ron muttered.

"Do anything wrong."

Ron looked up quickly. "But you _don't_ know--"

"I know because I know you, Ron, all right?" Harry looked almost angry once more, but it was a relief for Ron to see Harry so sure of him. "Hex or no, you wouldn't do something like that, not ever."

They were both silent.

"I'm still worried about the situation with your memory, and you as well," Harry went on to say at last. "Especially if now, you…well…" he coughed. 

Ron snorted. He had forgotten he had more or less indicated he'd done something with Draco. "Right, on account of how now it looks like I might be an enormous poof."

Harry hit Ron with a pillow. "Not that! Only that it's Malfoy. You know I think he's been up to something all year. I don't trust him one bit. And you, you're my best mate, and I don't like the idea that he could be trying to use you to target someone else, even though I know you wouldn't let him." 

"Don't think much of my charms, do you?" Ron asked. 

Harry stared at him. "What?"

"Well, you think the only possible reason he might want to be with me is because he's using me to get to you, right?"

"I didn't say that exactly," Harry returned.

"Maybe he's taken in by my fiery red hair," Ron commented.

Harry cracked a smile. "There is that."

"And I am quite tall," Ron added.

"Tallest boy in our year," Harry agreed. 

"Some blokes must like that."

"I would imagine they might."

Harry sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. It made him look as though he was wearing a tangled blackened mop, but Ron decided not to comment. 

"Listen," Harry began again in a quieter voice. "If you like blokes, I have no problem with that."

Ron laughed out loud. "No problem?"

"Well, you're not going to start describing things to me, are you?" Harry asked anxiously. "Because I don't know how, er, supportive I can be about --"

"Of course not!" Ron answered. He sighed and rubbed at his face with both hands. "I do like girls; that much I know for certain. But maybe -- maybe there might be. Er, a little bit of, you know. A possibility, with blokes. At least, erm, it would seem there is now."

Harry tilted his head slightly, assessing Ron like he might to take stock of a mysterious clue. "How does it sound to you?"

"How does what sound?"

"You know." Harry coughed. "Getting close to another bloke's bits, or kissing one, or..."

Ron could feel his ears burn. "Not…not a problem, I'm fairly certain."

Harry groaned and fell over sideways on the bed.

"You said as long as I didn't _describe_ things--"

"I can't help but picture it whether I want to or not!"

"Well, I can't help you having a dirty mind!"

Harry gave him a shove. "So for now it seems like Malfoy could well be telling the truth about you and he."

"Yeah, maybe that really is what the hex affected, like he's been saying." Ron frowned. Despite Draco's litany of reasons why someone would want Ron to forget such a thing, it seemed off to him still. "Would make things simpler, I suppose, not to worry about what else I could have forgotten," he said to himself.

"All the same, I can't help but think it's the best course to reverse the hex's impact. Then you could be sure about Malfoy, and we can be certain someone didn't have something far more important in mind for you to forget when they cast that spell."

"Hermione didn't find anything this afternoon, but maybe she's had more luck since then. That is, if she's still speaking to me and wants to help," Ron added.

"What, you had a row with her as well?"

Ron nodded.

"Hmmm. Well, I can definitely see why Malfoy's interested in you," Harry said. He grinned widely. "You're a real prize."

Feathers flew as Ron launched an all-out attack on Harry with his two best pillows.

*~*~* 

"Finally," Hermione snapped when Ron and Harry joined her at the Gryffindor table for dinner and took their seats. "I've found something about the hex."

"What?" 

Harry pried the pitcher out of Ron's hands when he let the pumpkin juice overflow his cup.

"I said I've found something." She lowered her voice. 

"Did you discover a clue in the library?" Ron whispered. His skin felt prickly, like something bad was coming. But there was no reason for that; he wanted to know more about the hex, obviously.

"Not in the library, no, but in a book I had special ordered from Flourish & Blotts ages ago."

"What hex was it, then?" Harry asked in an undertone.

"I haven't discovered the specific hex exactly; what I found was some information about how to confirm the sort of hex cast."

"We already know that, though, right? A memory hex; Madam Pomfrey told us that much." 

"This would reveal a bit more." Hermione looked up and frowned.

Neville, Seamus, Dean and Ginny crowded in at the table, waving or nodding by way of greeting as they began to pass platters around and fill their glasses with pumpkin juice.

"We can't talk about it now," Hermione hissed. 

"Would you like any more juice, Ron?" Ginny asked over the din of other students talking and eating.

Ron grunted no in reply, indicating his overly full cup.

"That reminds me, I have some extra Chocolate Frog Cards you might want for your collection," Dean said. "I'll show them to you later."

"Yeah, all right," Ron replied distractedly. 

Hermione waited until the others were engaged in their own conversations before leaning close to Harry and Ron. "Ron, you'll have to meet me in the second-floor girls' bathroom tonight. You too, Harry."

They both nodded. "I'll be there after detention," Ron agreed.

"How did you get detention?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Draco," Ron whispered so only Harry would hear.

"Ah." As Harry was already turning red, Ron knew he wouldn't have to answer any follow-up questions. 

"It will have to be later, then. We'll meet half an hour past curfew. Oh, and Ron?" Hermione leaned closer. "Bring Draco."

*~*~* 

"I knew you'd start to remember. Well, not specifics maybe, but that you'd come around," Draco said, his eyes alight with triumph. "Mind, I didn't expect you to be trying to get me alone so soon after what happened today."

"This way," Ron said uncomfortably, leading onward. 

McGonagall had set them at opposite ends of her office and made them write an essay on proper conduct for Hogwarts students and how prefects especially should set an example for others. She sat at her desk the entire time, marking first-year essays, so they hadn't a moment to speak during the entire detention.

After McGonagall dismissed them, telling them to go straight to their dormitories because it was just after curfew, Ron asked Draco if he wanted to go somewhere quiet. 

He very nearly followed the request with an explanation of the situation. After all, if they really were boyfriends, Draco should want to help Ron and the others figure out information about the hex.

He didn't give an account of Hermione's findings, however. Ron felt certain Hermione hadn't asked him to bring Draco along because she thought they were dating. All evening while he was scratching out McGonagall's essay on school manners Ron couldn't shake the unavoidable realization: Hermione now most likely suspected Draco of casting the hex, and wanted to test him with whatever method of assessment she had discovered.

All of it left Ron feeling troubled. He couldn't work out why Hermione had changed her mind and now thought Draco was responsible. Only days ago at the Infirmary she insisted Draco wouldn't have cast the hex and then gone on to claim something that would make them question his motives. That early explanation made sense to Ron the more he thought about it; had Draco taken aim at Ron's memories, wouldn't he have distanced himself from Ron, not tried to get much, much closer?

On the other hand, Draco had always been a fairly obvious suspect when the three of them knew someone was up to something awful. Even if his current behavior didn't make sense, past experiences had taught Ron that Draco was not someone he could trust. 

Why then did Ron have such a sinking feeling in his stomach when he pictured Draco being the one who had hexed his memories?

An image flashed in Ron's mind, of Draco's pale blond eyelashes fluttering, of Draco's pink swollen lips. Then he remembered how Draco had thrown his arms around him when Ron kissed him. 

He swallowed. Perhaps the reason he hadn't said anything about where he was bringing Draco was something entirely different. Maybe some small part of him was hoping Hermione's test would show Draco hadn't been involved with the hex at all. 

"The girls' bathroom?" Draco asked when he saw where they were headed. He wrinkled his nose. "Not exactly the most comfortable choice, though I'll give you points on finding a deserted spot. Still, wouldn't you rather go up to the Prefects' Bathroom?"

"Just come on," Ron urged.

"Impatient, aren't we?" Draco sauntered in, and Ron hurried after him.

When Draco stopped short just inside, however, Ron pulled back so as not to slam into him.

"Having your own tryst with Granger, Potter?" Draco sneered when he saw that the room was already occupied. His gaze moved from Harry to Hermione, and then focused on the burbling cauldron placed to the side. "I see you're preparing a potion together. That's a new one. You Gryffindors are a kinky lot, aren't you?"

As he moved next to Draco, Ron could see Draco surreptitiously glance back at the door. 

"Don't run off," Ron said quickly. "Please," he added when Draco glared at him. "Hermione figured out a way to test something, and she asked -- well, I thought --"

"So you're a part of this little trap?" Draco sniffed. "I shouldn't be surprised." He spared one last glance for the exit, and then squared his shoulders. "All right, I'll humor you for the moment. What have you figured out, Granger?"

Hermione stepped forward, indicating two smaller basins to the right of the cauldron. "A Spell Revealing Potion," she said curtly. "The process won't take much of your time. Now, if you would dip your wand in the container on the right, please."

Draco drew himself up. "I most certainly will not."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Well, you wouldn't just stick your wand anywhere because someone ordered you to, would you?" Draco asked hotly. Then he gave Harry a considering look. "Well, maybe _you_ would."

Harry opened his mouth, but Hermione halted him, placing her hand on his arm.

"You expect me to do what you say when you haven't explained any of it to me properly?" Draco went on. "I think not. Put it into plain words, and be quick about it. What exactly does your little concoction aim to prove?" 

"It will tell us whether you're the one responsible for hexing Ron or not," Harry said. He held up a hand to stave off Draco's retort. "After all, someone did hex Ron. I think it quite odd that it happened right before you began claiming the two of you were dating. I should think you would want to verify if you had no part in it."

"If you did nothing to Ron's memories, you have nothing to fear, and this potion will convince us," Hermione added.

"So that potion reveals spells? You think I would let you carry out some procedure that reveals each and every spell I've performed?" Draco asked incredulously.

Harry glanced at Hermione quickly. From his expression, Ron could tell Harry wouldn't mind at all having a complete list of spells Draco had cast recently. Ron rubbed at the back of his neck, uneasy. He reckoned he wouldn't feel too keen on anyone cataloguing every spell he had performed. 

"No, actually," Hermione broke in. "I've cued this Revealing Potion to two factors: whether the wand in question has recently -- in the past month -- cast a hex, and whether that hex fit into the category of hexes targeting memory function."

"So you wouldn't be able to tell anything else, any charms or jinxes," Draco said slowly.

"Are there some sorts of jinxes you're in the habit of casting we should know about?" Harry shot back. 

"No, nothing else," Hermione said, ignoring Harry. 

Draco tapped his chin with his index finger in an exaggerated parody of consideration. "Say I was in a Hexing Club --"

" _Is_ there a Hexing Club?" Harry exploded.

Both Hermione and Ron shushed him.

"If I had practiced a hex on my own, then your tub of goop would as good as charge me with hexing Ron even if I had only been practicing," Draco argued.

"It wouldn't. That's what this second basin is for." Hermione pointed. "You dip your wand in the first. Ron puts his hand into the second."

"Won't that burn?" Ron asked anxiously.

"Both mixtures are from the same potion base, a Revealing Potion cued to hexes of the memory category by the addition of Jobberknoll Feathers," Hermione continued. "Each has a special ingredient to make the next step possible. Once the testing agents -- hand and wand -- are added, the separate potions then react to the presence or absence of the hex; the first to the hex cast, the second to the hex absorbed."

She had at this point moved to stand in front of the two smaller containers. "A color on a spectrum I've determined will indicate the presence of such a hex. We know Ron's potion will change color for certain, while the effect of your wand on the other potion remains to be seen. But in any case, if both wand and hand create the same reaction, then the colors will match exactly. Any other memory spell that would not have been aimed at the person suffering from the hex would produce a different color in the container touched by the wand. That will let us know whether the caster of the hex performed the spell on that specific person hexed or not." 

They all gaped at her.

"That's actually an impressive bit of potions work," Draco allowed, stepping closer and peering into the containers.

Hermione looked stunned for a moment. "Thank you," she said finally in a superior tone. 

"Well? Get on with it," Harry urged. 

Draco rolled his eyes and turned to Ron. "Do you want me to do this?"

Ron started in surprise at the question. "Well, yeah. If it turns out you didn't cast the hex, then I would know that for certain," he finished. 

Draco regarded him shrewdly. "After all I've said, even after what happened this afternoon, you don't trust me not to have hexed you?"

"What happened this afternoon?" Hermione asked in confusion.

"I --" Ron swallowed.

"You promise this will reveal only what you have said it will?" Draco asked Hermione.

"You have my word," she assured him.

"For what that's worth," Draco muttered. "Let's get this over with," he said in a louder voice, stalking over to the containers.

At Hermione's signal, Draco slid the tip of his wand into the potion on the left. Meanwhile, Ron hesitantly eased his hand into the surprisingly cool potion on the right. 

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the surface of each mixture began to shimmer.

"Does that mean Draco cast the spell?" Harry asked.

"Just wait." Hermione's gaze fixed on the reaction.

The potion on the right sputtered and turned a lurid shade of red.

The potion on the left, however, gleamed for a moment before turning clear.

"You see?" Draco said calmly in the silence that followed. "I wasn't the one to hex you."

"No, you weren't," Ron said. He looked again at the clear contents of Draco's container. So Draco hadn't been involved in the memory spell. But what did that mean for the rest of Draco's claims?

"Well." Draco rubbed his hands together briskly. "It has most decidedly _not_ been a pleasure. Granger," he said with a nod toward her. "Potter," he pronounced with rather more disdain. 

He only looked at Ron for a moment before he turned and left.

"At least now we know he didn't perform the hex," Harry said when neither Ron nor Hermione spoke.

"I never thought he did," Hermione said in distraction. 

"What?" Ron yelled. "What was all this for, then?"

Hermione sighed. "Ron, who do you know who might want you to forget something you knew about them?"

"How am I supposed to tell you that?" he asked in exasperation. "If I hadn't _forgotten_ , then maybe I would know!"

"I don't think you need to remember what it was to determine who had an interest in making you forget," Hermione snapped at him. 

"Has anyone been acting differently towards you lately?" Harry asked. Ron could almost see the gears in Harry's mind turning, as if he had gotten a hold of something Ron hadn't yet caught on to. 

"You mean aside from Draco pulling me into an alcove this afternoon and --"

"Not that," Harry hastened to add. 

Hermione's mouth formed a round little "o" of surprise, and Ron groaned. She would have to go and put the pieces together easily from very little evidence. 

"Anyone else?" Harry prodded.

"Can't think of anyone, really," Ron said with a shrug. 

"I can think of two someones," Harry said suddenly.

"I'll go get her," Hermione said at once.

"I had better come with you to make sure he comes," Harry put in.

"What are you on about?" Ron asked. "Should I--"

"Stay here," they both ordered him before hurrying from the room. 

Ron grumbled to himself as he washed up in the basin to remove the thin layer of potion still lingering on his right hand. Now Draco was angry with him, and all for nothing.

He cast himself down on the floor in a sulky pose, but then sat up straighter when he thought of something. He actually cared that Draco was angry with him. Not only that, he was hugely relieved Draco hadn't hexed him. 

Maybe it took knowing a person hadn't hexed you to make you have warm feelings about them. In any case, Ron waited impatiently for his friends to return and tried to think how he might make up to his boyfriend, Draco Malfoy.

*~*~* 

"About time," Ron complained when Harry and Hermione returned. "Ginny?" he asked uncertainly as he saw his sister slowly follow them, along with Dean. 

"What do I need to do?" Ginny asked in a tired voice.

Hermione performed a quick _Evanesco_ to vanish the contents of the two containers, and then muttered another spell to fill them again. "Put the tip of your wand in the container on the left," she directed.

Ginny didn't put up any of the fuss Draco had, just stuck her wand into the mixture.

"Ron?" Hermione prompted.

In a daze, he moved forward and once again put his hand into the container on the right.

As before, Ron's mixture turned a lurid red.

A moment later, Ginny's mixture sputtered and matched the other exactly in color and shade. 

"You hexed me?" Ron asked in shock. 

"I didn't mean to," she said miserably. "It was just that you surprised us, and I didn't know what you might do next."

"What were you doing?" he asked in confusion.

She sighed and turned to Hermione. "Do I have to say it?"

"I think you might just show him," Hermione answered. 

She grimaced, but slowly nodded. When she approached Ron with her wand, however, he shied away. "I'm only going to reverse it," Ginny said in annoyance.

"Mind that's all you do," he shot back. 

He didn't actually hear the words of the counter-hex she muttered, but all at once in his mind's eye he could see it -- the sixth-year boys' dormitory door opening by the force of his hand, Dean in bed, not alone, because with him was --

"Why did you have to go and make me remember that?" Ron moaned, holding his head.

Ginny and Dean wore equally embarrassed expressions. Hermione gave a satisfied nod and Harry looked, for some reason, very angry. 

"You have to understand why I reacted like that," she explained. "You surprised us completely." 

"I could have lived my entire life without seeing that again!" Ron exclaimed. 

"It's not as though I wanted you to see," Ginny huffed. "We had thought you would be gone for another hour at least."

"Wait a moment. You knew about me disappearing regularly?"

"We didn't think anything of it," Dean interrupted. "You were in the library, we assumed, or just off with Harry and Hermione or serving detention. But we did notice there was a kind of pattern: you tended to be gone from around eight at night to eleven or later. So we thought, well, Seamus had detention for the night, Neville had a special project with Professor Sprout, Harry was out skulking around the castle like always, and we would have some time alone."

"Is there any way to make me forget it again?" Ron pleaded.

Hermione hid a smile behind her hand. 

"Wait," Ron said abruptly. "If Ginny reversed the hex, how is it I can't remember the other part, whatever it was I did when you lot couldn't find me?"

Harry asked Ginny, "Did you know what hex you were using?"

"I just sort of said it all at once," Ginny confessed. "It was based on something I overheard Fred and George were working on, Self Selecting Memory Blockers For Those Awkward Mornings After. But they hadn't really tested it, and I'm not sure why I decided to use that particular hex. Ron looked so angry, and I just had to do _something_."

"So really, you more or less invented a hex on your own after hearing a little of Fred and George's conversation?" Harry looked, oddly enough, impressed.

"Well, hexes are a bit of a specialty of mine," Ginny said. 

"So it wasn't a proper approved hex," Hermione reasoned. "Ginny only meant you to forget that one thing. But because she cast an unrefined hex so quickly and so desperately, it probably attached to something related and blocked that from your memory as well." She tilted her head to the side. "Most likely you had been doing whatever it was you disappeared regularly to do just before Ginny hexed you. So the memory of those periods of time went away along with the image Ginny intended you to forget."

Ron rubbed his temples. "Hermione, just explain one more thing."

"What?"

"Why did you go through that whole rigmarole with Draco and the test? 

"Well, for one I wanted to make certain the potions would work," she explained. "I knew he hadn't been the one to perform the hex; I've already explained why days ago. His potion should have turned clear, and it did. But that doesn't mean he wasn't hiding something, Ron. And if you're to become involved with him after this, he needs to be more honest with you."

"So you also did it to scare him into confessing something else to me? What?"

"Honestly, Ron," she burst out. "Anyone could see that all his pretending about being your boyfriend worked because he didn't have to go very far afield for his material." At Ron's confused look, she rolled her eyes and elaborated, "He obviously had feelings for you before this!"

"What?" he asked, utterly befuddled. "How do you know?"

"All that fighting, all that name-calling," she began.

"But Draco fought with Harry as well," Ron argued.

"Not like he fought with you," Hermione said calmly. 

"I should hope not, then," Harry said, going a bit pale.

"So we really were, er, boyfriends?" Ron asked. He felt a strange burst of hope rising in his chest. 

"That I can't answer. But I think you'll find he can, especially as he really is starting to care for you now."

"Do you think so?"

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose above his glasses and exhaled slowly. "Yeah. Seems clear enough to me. I doubt he would have taken Hermione's test if you hadn't said you wanted him to. I mean, this _is_ Draco Malfoy we're speaking of; he manages to get out of most things that aren't to his advantage. Why else would he want to assure you unless he actually liked you?"

"I should go," Ron muttered.

Their murmurs of assent followed him as he left to find Draco. 

*~*~* 

How Ron's footsteps knew where to guide him he wasn't sure, but before long he had climbed the stairs to the seventh floor and found himself standing in front of the wall concealing the entrance to the Room of Requirement. 

"I need to speak to Draco Malfoy," he repeated to himself as he walked back and forth along the small stretch of corridor.

After the third time, a door appeared, and Ron opened it.

"Look who's here," Draco said idly. He sat in a squashy chair so large it could have easily fit two people, swinging his right leg, which he had sprawled over one of its arms. He was surrounded by comfy looking chairs and tables, as though he was in a common room. 

"We were never boyfriends," Ron said at once as he walked toward Draco.

"Well, we weren't _before_ ," Draco said. 

Ron halted. "I didn't expect you to admit that straight away."

After regarding him for a moment, Draco shrugged. "Why not? You already seemed to know. What, did Granger hide some sort of truth-revealing device in her potion despite all protestations that it was exactly what she said and nothing else?"

"No, it _was_ exactly what she said," Ron answered. "I know because it showed Ginny was the one who hexed me."

"Your sister?" Draco swung his other leg over the chair's arm, and shifted his body up, looking intrigued. "What sorts of horrid un-Weasley-like things was she doing that she had to hex the memory of them out of you?"

Ron shuddered. "Maybe one day I'll tell you, when the thought of it stops making me nauseous."

Both of Draco's white-blond eyebrows rose in surprise. "You'll tell me one day? Why?"

"Why not?" Ron asked casually, moving closer to stand in front of him. 

When Draco bit his lip in thought, Ron had the strange sensation of wanting to bite it himself. The reminder of what those lips had done earlier combined with the assurance Harry and Hermione had about Draco liking him, _really_ liking him, made Ron want to forget about clearing up the rest and instead spend the night kissing Draco Malfoy until he whimpered. 

Instead, he waited.

"You know, you should tell Granger and Potter not to discuss top secret material in the library," Draco started in a conversational tone.

"That's how you learned someone had cast a memory hex on me?" Ron asked.

Draco smiled to himself. "I can't believe they never take a really good look around to see if anyone is eavesdropping before blathering on."

"So eavesdropping was the way you learned I was spending time away from my friends, and that they couldn't keep track of me," Ron went on. 

As he spoke, he began to pace, and the pieces fell into place in his mind.

"You must have seen an opportunity, deciding that if I had gone missing a few times, I might provide the perfect alibi for all those times _you_ had gone missing. Of course, that would only work if I didn't know otherwise, if I didn't remember anything to contradict the lie that we had been together those nights."

"Go on," Draco murmured. 

"When you overheard Harry and Hermione's whispers about the hex, you saw your chance, and hurried to convince them, and me, that we had been romantically involved. You figured Harry would be so aghast at that, so intent on proving you wrong, that you would have the all-clear to do whatever you needed to do afterward."

The look Draco gave Ron was genuinely impressed. 

Then he smiled. "Not exactly," he allowed.

Ron forced himself to stay calm.

"Oh, you're right about parts of it," Draco agreed with a stretch. "Potter has been at my heels from the start of first term. Somehow he seemed to catch on that I wasn't in any of the regular places in the school, and he was bound and determined to track me down."

Ron kept silent, motioning for him to go on. 

"It really was getting in the way of certain tasks I needed to accomplish." Draco's expression turned challenging, but Ron did not press him to say more. "So yes, I knew you weren't hanging about with your chums as much as usual, but I found that out on my own. When I heard you had actually forgotten something, that Granger and Potter were frantic at the thought of someone hexing you, well. I decided claiming you were my boyfriend would serve my purposes nicely. Potter couldn't very well continue suspecting me of everything under the sun. Not if he believed those times he couldn't find me were because I was with _you_."

"Tell me this, then. How did you know already about me going missing from the others?" 

Draco sighed. "You were practicing."

"Practicing?" Ron echoed. "Practicing what?"

"Quidditch, you dolt!"

"I couldn't have been," Ron argued. "If I had been outside, Harry would have --" Ron's jaw dropped. "Here," he said in a kind of wonder, looking around him. "I must have been practicing here." Like Harry had said, the only way he couldn't have observed Ron on the map would have been if Ron were in the Room of Requirement.

Draco nodded. "I spotted you when I was trying to use the room myself. You got there first, and were sneaking your broom under your cloak. Once I was able to get in and see for myself. The room actually transformed into a quarter-sized practice pitch. Impressive." 

"It can get that big?" Ron asked, looking at the walls.

"Oh, it can expand as large as a cathedral when I --" Draco stopped abruptly. 

Ron waited for him to continue, but Draco only returned to the topic at hand. "You got the room to lob balls at you, and worked on your Keeper skills." Draco grinned. "Apparently all those cheers we came up with really got to you. Ridiculous, really, you trying to practice on your own over and over, because--"

"All right, spare me the news about how I'm such a rubbish player, no one in their right mind should let me on their team," Ron interrupted bitterly.

"Because you're actually not a half-bad Keeper," Draco finished slowly. "You just need a bit of confidence, and to relax, obviously. You have what they call performance anxiety. At least, you seem to have it on the pitch, though I can attest you haven't got it other places." He smirked. 

"What did you just say?" Ron asked.

"I said -- oh, you wanted to hear the _Quidditch_ part?" Draco sniggered. "I meant it. You're not as awful as all that. You'd be good, actually, if Potter knew anything about how to Captain. What, does he just have you lot play, and then tell you to try your best?"

Ron gave a jerky nod.

Draco huffed. "No sense of strategy, that one. Always rushing into things, or assuming he can solve every problem by doing instead of thinking." 

"You know, none of this explains why you grabbed me and yanked down my pants and trousers this afternoon," Ron said suspiciously. 

"Well, part of that was I really wanted to suck your cock," Draco confided.

Ron made a choking noise. 

"I did pull you into the alcove because I thought Potter was following me," Draco admitted after a moment. "If he caught me then, I would have had the perfect excuse, hiding away with you."

"But you didn't want to get caught after you got me in there with you," Ron asserted. "I could tell by the way you grabbed my arm, and how hard you were breathing."

"Well, at that point, to be honest, I, well," Draco blustered. _Blustered_ , for the first time since Ron had entered the room, after acting as cool as a cucumber --

"You actually are attracted to me," Ron said in wonder. "You even have feelings for me," he continued as Draco scowled at him. 

"I would have thought that would be patently obvious by now," Draco complained. "You are very tall," he added defensively. 

Ron took a step closer to him. "Why are you being so honest with me now? Is the room making you?"

"No, though I have no doubt it will provide Veritaserum if you ask it nicely," Draco replied in a nasty voice. 

"No," Ron answered, growing surer as he spoke. "You're telling the truth." 

Draco glared at him. "Well, seems I have to, if I want to get you away from your chums on occasion. You Gryffindors have an odd fondness for honesty. I'll oblige you to an extent, well, because there's time in the term yet. We have to find some way of passing the days."

"And you want to pass them with me," Ron said. "In alcoves."

Draco threw up his hands. "Or here, or the Prefect's Bathroom. I mean, we might as well be _comfortable_."

Ron took the last two steps to the front of Draco's chair. This time he did shove himself into it alongside Draco, and pulled Draco toward him. 

*~*~* 

After a long while of kissing and some rather more exciting things (it really was quite a large chair), Ron and Draco curled up together half-naked and more than a little exhausted.

"I have another question," Ron began. After a moment's hesitation, he reached out and combed his fingers through Draco's hair.

"Fire away." Draco closed his eyes, leaning into Ron's touch.

"When you -- er, when we were in the alcove --"

"When I sucked you off?" Draco asked helpfully. His eyes remained closed, though he smiled wickedly.

Ron cleared his throat. "You said you missed it, and to be honest, it seemed you had done a time or two prior to that, so--"

"Well, I _had_ done it before. Just not with you."

"Who was it with?" Ron asked immediately. He could feel his ears starting to burn. 

"Look who has a jealous streak," Draco said in a pleased voice. He opened his eyes and gave Ron a sultry look.

"But you said I would remember it if you knew what you were about," Ron went on.

"Well, you _do_ remember it now, don't you?" Draco asked. "Gryffindors," he scoffed under his breath. "Far too literal."

"I should remember it," Ron said. "I mean, if we are going to be boyfriends."

"Are we truly going to call each other that?" Draco wrinkled his nose. "It sounds so ridiculous."

"What should we say instead?" Ron asked, baffled. 

"I don't know. Lovers. _Amours_. Fuck monkeys."

"About those tasks you needed to accomplish," Ron broke in, changing tacks. 

Draco scowled. "I'm not telling you anything about those, Weasley."

"Just think about it. Not about telling me, necessarily, but finding another way to work out a solution. I can help you."

Draco drew back. "You are serious, aren't you?"

"Come on," Ron reasoned. "You're in trouble. You're worried about yourself and your family. You need serious help. And I can tell you right now, I'm on the winning side."

"Confident of that, are you?" Draco ducked his head in a little. "What if that were true?" he asked. He tucked his head just next to Ron's shoulder, as if he were thinking about inching over to lie on Ron's chest. "Why would you help me?"

Ron snorted, yanking Draco over so he could rest against Ron properly. "I'm your boyfriend, remember?"

Oh, I won't forget," Draco assured him, grinning until Ron kissed him again. 

 

***~* the end *~***


End file.
